Dragon Age 2: Questions
by Bettycake
Summary: F/Hawke/Fenris/Anders love triangle sort of. My first one-shot.


**AN: Having written this one shot some time ago, I've now come back to it, twice, and realised, twice, how badly it was written. So, I've edited it, again – hopefully, better this time.**

**Thanks so much for reading. Your favourites and reviews are immensely appreciated.**

**Dragon Age, and all characters, are the intellectual property of Bioware.**

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><p>It was a day quite beautiful – for Kirkwall standards. The sun was making the sand on the Wounded Coast sparkle, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Actually, the sand was less blood stained than usual, after the immense precipitation of the night before, and the clouds were ever so slightly less grey.<p>

Still, as Hawke, Fenris, and Anders made their way towards the site of an earlier skirmish to collect their loot, hearts were happy and all was well in the world – if you were living in an alternate reality.

The group had walked from the city in silence, the tension between them palpable as each feared they might say the wrong thing. That awkwardness had endured for almost three weeks, with no sign of letting up anytime soon.

Hawke picked up her pace as she could hear the two men grunting at each other and she would rather avoid killing both of them, should a physical fight break out.

"You were an idiot to leave Hawke!" Anders suddenly blurted out.

Hawke sighed.

"And you were fast enough to replace me!" Fenris snarled back at the mage.

"I love her. You can't even imagine what that is." Anders' tone was deliberately mocking. Though she couldn't see his face, Hawke could tell he was enjoying this; she could picture his 'cat that got the cream' expression.

"Do not bare your heart to me, mage, unless you would have me rip it out!"

Hawke spun around to face her companions and charged up to them with her daggers drawn.

"That's enough you two!"

Both men jumped back simultaneously as the raven-haired rogue glowered at them from beneath a furrowed brow.

"Do I really have to separate you both, or can we all be grown up about this, and get on with the job like civilised adults?" Hawke raised an eyebrow that demanded an answer and both knew it had better be one she was satisfied with.

As the trio continued on their route, silence fell upon them once more, the squabble acting as a brief intermission to the icy cold atmosphere; order was restored.

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><p>Three years later and tensions had eased. After Hawke had famously defeated the Qunari Arishok in single combat, earning the title 'Champion of Kirkwall' as reward, Anders had suggested he move into the Amell estate. Their relationship had been the talk of the regulars in the Hanged Man Tavern for quite some time and, after much playful prompting from Varric, Anders decided it was high time he and Hawke made more of a commitment to one another. Of course, having a 'safe-house' to escape the grasp of the Templars was a distinct advantage.<p>

Hawke was happy enough to share her home with Anders; her evenings were now almost a cliché. As a couple, they would sit down to a meal together before retiring to separate rooms to avoid each other's company, without ever actually announcing that intent.

He loved her – she knew that. However, unless they were engaged in life or death combat, or activities of a more… 'undressed' nature, Hawke, at least, realised they had very little in common. Nights in with Anders were a far cry from the wonderful evenings she'd spent with Fenris, so many years ago. She fondly remembered time spent at his mansion, putting the world to rights over a bottle or two of wine, laughing about anything and everything until the sun started to remind them they hadn't slept. Many times in the last three years she had longed to visit his mansion once more, silently aching for him to hold her again, daydreaming of white hair and elven ears while Anders chatted endlessly about the 'dreaded Templars', or the injustice experienced by the Mages.

She had contemplated and considered the circumstances of it all until her mind was fit to bursting with questions she still didn't have the answers to. That night was so far behind her now – the most important night of her life, when she and Fenris had finally embraced the thinly veiled passion that had simmered between them for months. From the moment they set eyes on each other, a spark had emerged and the 'game' had become one of playful flirting that would break the resolve of lesser mortals within moments. However, in their case, it was part of the attraction. Each night the dance would end before the music had stopped. Each day they would work together still humming the tune.

Now the song was sung no more, and she still didn't understand why. That night as she had laid in his arms, her head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he slept, she couldn't remember ever feeling so truly happy. Their life together had just begun and every inch of her body tingled with the excitement of it. She had wanted to wake him, to tell him she loved him and share her euphoria, but he looked so content, so peaceful, that she hadn't wanted to disturb his slumber. Instead, she'd watched his face and admired it as a thing of true beauty, drinking in his aura until sleep finally took her – such pleasant dreams she'd had.

Hawke had woken to find Fenris stood by the fire in her bedroom. He'd been fully clothed and even from behind she could tell he was distracted. She'd sensed something was wrong, but her heart refused to believe until it was confirmed.

"Are you alright, Fenris?" she'd asked, her voice betraying her concerns by breaking slightly.

Without turning to face her, he'd continued to stare deep into the flames.

"I can't do this… I can't."

"What do you mean… are you leaving me?" Hawke's voice little more than a whisper. Fenris had turned to face her, but his eyes didn't meet with hers. Perhaps he'd feared seeing her broken heart reflected in them. Perhaps he'd simply wanted to avoid answering the inevitable questions meeting her gaze would bring.

"I'm sorry, Hawke." And with that he'd walked from her bed, from her room, and from the life she'd been anticipating as she'd listened to his heartbeat.

That was more than three years ago and they'd both moved on. A sort of status-quo had settled in and friendship had been pasted over the cracks of their broken love. To most of the world in general, everything was fine. Hawke was in love with Anders and he was quite clearly in love with her. The day to day normality of solving the problems of others, getting involved in near-death experiences, and rounding it all off with pint in the Hanged Man had carried on as it always had. All was well in the world… or so everyone thought.

That was until Hawke had needed to go to the mansion, a place she'd avoided like the blight. During the last three years, when duty had called, Hawke had insisted Fenris meet the group anywhere but there. He'd accepted out of courtesy, never questioning, never complaining. Maker did she wish he would complain; just once to get angry with her for putting him out, just once for him to remark on the stupidity of it or question the rationale. He couldn't even be angry with her; she would have been content with that. At least if he expressed some kind of emotion towards her, other than polite cordiality, she would know the passion still existed. However, it was a complete exercise in futility, and she knew it. Now, if only her heart would listen to her brain more – yes, that would make things better.

Earlier that day, Hawke had received a message from Aveline to meet her at the mansion, something to do with needing to talk to Fenris about something and how much her presence may be required… and appreciated. She wasn't sure why she didn't just make an excuse, but she dutifully sent word back to Aveline that she would be there, as requested.

That evening she stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room and brushed her shoulder length black hair until it shone. Wondering if the years where beginning to take their toll on her looks, she scanned her pale skin for any signs of ageing.

"You look beautiful, Hawke… as always." Anders reflection appeared behind her in the looking glass. He wrapped his big arms around her waist and leant in to gently kiss her cheek. She nuzzled her head against his, and covered his arms with her own, her hands resting on his.

"Do you have plans?" he asked. "Only, I'm not too sure I can let you out of my sight, looking as you do."

Hawke suddenly felt mild revulsion at the cheeky grin on her partner's face.

"I'm not a possession, Anders!" She snapped.

The mage dropped his arms from around her and stepped back, obviously shocked at her outburst. Her guilt followed quickly then. She hadn't intended to bite his head off, but something inside her had snapped. It was probably just the anxiety that had been building up all afternoon, knowing where she had to go. She felt certain all those memories would come flooding back the second she set foot in the mansion – and she anticipated those very memories painting pictures across her face, pictures that Fenris would comprehend. The very thought of that made her feel quite ill. Perhaps this was a big mistake.

"Anders, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… you didn't deserve that. Forgive me?"

He lapped up the apology with the enthusiasm of a puppy. Now facing Hawke, he pulled her close to him and pressed his lips against hers. Hawke reciprocated the kiss but, for the first time in three years, it felt physically forced. Her mind had often been elsewhere when they kissed, but she'd always managed to convince her body to enjoy the intimacy between them before. The fact that the anticipation of the task before her had changed this disturbed the Champion a great deal.

As she said goodbye to Anders, she closed the door to the estate and, for a split second, wondered if she'd ever return. There wasn't a word for the amount of pressure she faced on a daily basis. So many relied on her, there was always so much to do and now, the twist of these emotions that she had spent so long trying to bury – it was too much. To run away would mean peace, and it would be so easy to do. She'd made mistakes, ones that would have a lasting effect on the hearts and minds of the people she cared about, should they be revealed.

"Oh, Mother, why aren't you here for me?" Hawke whispered into the night air. And with that, she pulled her cloak tighter, held it close at the neck, and set off into the cool night beyond.

It was a walk that she had taken many times, both literally and retraced in her mind as she'd lain in the darkness beside Anders every night. As she walked through the streets of Hightown, familiar places stirred memories she'd tried very hard to forget. The bench where they'd sat watching the stars, the wall where she'd sat on high, teasing Fenris to reach for the kiss he desired – how she had managed to pass these emotional tripwires without bursting into tears, she would never know. Somehow, she'd closed off that part of herself, the part she'd shared with him. Somehow, she knew that it must be that way, though the reason had never been made clear. Somehow, she knew it was pointless to linger on what was past and somehow, beyond all reason, she'd known it was obviously never meant to be – however much it felt like the only thing that was.

Hawke arrived at the mansion, its front door staring her down, warning her to turn back. She stared back, daring herself to turn the handle and enter, then just as quickly turning on her heels and preparing to walk away. Stopping dead in her tracks, she chastised herself for this madness. She was a grown woman and this request of Aveline's must be important. She knew her friend understood what had passed between the lovers and, with quiet female solidarity, she'd been sensitive to putting either of them in uncomfortable situations.

"You know I'm here for you, Hawke." Aveline had reassured, soon after Fenris had made his choice. It was a time made even more difficult by the sudden, tragic death of Hawke's mother at the hands of a serial killer. Aveline's words of comfort and support had come at a time when the two women where sharing their memories of Leandra. Aveline had known, as only a close female friend could, that Hawke was grieving for lost love as well as her mother. The other members of the group where immensely supportive of course but they were oblivious to the part Fenris played in the Champion's sadness. Hawke was thankful for that; emotions would have been so much harder to control if she'd had to face the different ways her other companions would have handled it on a daily basis. The floodgates would almost certainly have opened, and it was unlikely they would close again as easily.

Inhaling deeply, Hawke strode back to the door of the mansion. She pasted on a smile, gripped the handle, and pushed the door open, ignoring the familiar creak of un-maintained wood.

Stepping into the dishevelled hallway beyond the threshold, she could just make out raised voices drifting down from the large room on the next floor. As she made her way up one of the staircases to the first-floor balcony, the voices of Aveline and Fenris became clearer. Things didn't sound good.

"Are you certain it's her?" Fenris' tone was agitated.

"An elf, matching your description, on the ship you named – and alone, as far as I could tell." Aveline responded to his question, the signs of exasperation starting to become clear in her voice.

Fenris raised his voice with no attempt at concealing his volatile anxiety. "I need to know if it's a trap!"

As Hawke entered the large, sparsely furnished room, she saw Aveline sat at the table with Fenris pacing back and forth around her.

"I did as you asked, Fenris. Now it's up to you." Aveline rose from her chair and walked past Hawke on her way out. "You talk to him, Hawke. I've had my fill for today."

Fenris looked up from his position leaning on the table as he heard Aveline announce the rogue's presence.

"What's going on, Fenris? Have you found your sister?" The old feelings flooded back as she remembered his torn emotions at discovering the existence of a sibling.

Fenris turned away.

Hawke presumed that Aveline had asked her to be there as she knew her friend was the only one who could calm him down. Though she could see the need, she mentally cursed Aveline for placing her in the thick of this situation; it was too close. She cared deeply for Fenris, but how could she help him when she feared her affection would become apparent after so long concealing it.

Silence hung in the air between them, like a hammer waiting to fall. The weight bearing heavily on both of them, until eventually someone had to release the pressure.

"Go home, Hawke! I have no need for you here."

Still facing away from her, she imagined his face, stern and angry, and at that moment her blood boiled.

"Hey, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here, Fenris!" she snapped. "I came at Aveline's request – to help a friend. But I guess you wouldn't understand what that…"

Fenris turned sharply to look at her, his face contorted with what looked like pain.

"I didn't ask for a friend, Hawke!" he interrupted. "Now, go back to Anders… where you belong." His tone was vicious and full of spite. She didn't think he'd ever spoken to her like that before. As his words cut deeply, she realised he was actually angry with her – an emotion,finally.

However, it didn't matter now. The fight had begun and, not one to back down, she knew there would be no end but his surrender.

Bristling with her own unspoken resentments, and her growing infuriation at his childish retort, she didn't stop to think about what she said next.

"Is it any wonder no one's ever been close to you, Fenris? You blame your markings, but I see nothing more than a brooding elf with no soul, save for the one his 'Master' etched into his mind. You _are_ a slave, Fenris, for you have no will, no responsibility, and no heart. You…"

"I have a heart, but you broke it!" He was before her in seconds, his whole body trembling with rage. The lyrium markings were starting to glow beneath his skin. She stumbled back against the wall as the elf warrior placed his arms against it, pinning her there as he hung over her. He stared into her eyes as though he wanted to rip her head from its shoulders. She'd seen him this angry before, but never with her. A shiver travelled down her spine as it occurred to her that he reserved this behaviour for lives he'd been about to extinguish. Seconds passed like minutes as they stood there like that, eyes locked, bodies taught, neither one making a move. She'd not come prepared to defend herself, but she was determined he'd not see her fear.

At last, Fenris dropped his arms and pulled away. He hung his head and walked calmly to a chair on the far side of the room, where he sat down and buried his face in his hands.

Hawke suddenly realised she'd been holding her breath and, with a gasp as she let oxygen back into her lungs, she slid down the wall to sit against it on the hard wooden floor.

For what seemed an eternity, they sat in their respective positions, as far away from each other as they could be. The silence returned, though different from before. It was as if the life had been sucked out of the room, the tension and anxiety now replaced with confusion and fear.

As the moon dared emerge from behind the clouds, its light shone in through the huge, undressed window. The room had been dark except for the dying embers of the fire and Fenris had sat in the shadows. Once the lyrium had ceased its glowing assault on his body, Hawke had no longer been able to see him. Now, she could just make out his huddled form in the celestial light. He hadn't shifted position since he'd sat down.

"Why?" Her question hung in the air, breaking the silence and tempting fate. She couldn't help it, she needed to know.

"I could ask the same of you." Fenris responded.

Perplexed as to what _his_ 'why' referred, Hawke looked towards Fenris for any hint. The moonlight casting odd shadows on his face, she thought she could make out a glistening of wetness on his cheek.

"What do you mean? Why what?"

"Are you really that stupid, Hawke? I took you for a woman of intellect." His words where cruel but his voice showed signs of calm reflection rather than spite.

"Fenris, I'm sorry if my ignorance offends you so but I truly have no idea what it is you want me to answer."

With a single word he clarified, "Anders."

So, that was what this was about. The elf and mage had never gotten along. In fact, they positively despised each other. Her relationship with Anders had obviously been a source of great irritation for Fenris. No doubt bitterness at the apostate achieving something he was too inadequate to have a chance at.

Hawke smiled to herself. "So, did you have any better suggestions as to with whom I should share my bed? I wasn't aware that you cared so." Sarcasm littered her response. If this was the kind of man she'd been in love with for all this time then perhaps the revelation was exactly what she needed to finally move on.

"Of course I cared." His low tone sounded beaten and resigned.

"Why, Fenris? Because you couldn't bear to see Anders happy? Because, you hate him so much that you couldn't wish him well. Would that really have been too much to ask?"

"I do not wish happiness to abandon anyone, Hawke" Fenris remained calm despite the provocation "Not him, and certainly not you."

The conversation was beginning to untie all those neatly parcelled little ideas and emotions that Hawke had tidied away over the course of the last three years. Confusion setting in, she almost choked at his next question.

"You are… happy?"

If there was ever a time when she'd been lost for words, this had jumped to the top of the list. She decided there was only way one to answer – lie.

"Of course I am. Deliriously so… yes, definitely." Hawke had never been a good liar.

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" Fenris asked with his usual characteristic air of assured confidence.

Hawke strained to see his expression through the failing moonlight. Was he… smiling?

Furious at what she felt had been his game, playing with her mind, trying to trick her into saying things she didn't want to, she got up and marched over to where her ex-lover sat.

"What is this, Fenris? What are you trying to do? I know what I said was cruel. Is this some kind of… payback?"

He got up from his chair and walked toward the fireplace, stopping in front of it, and warming his hands.

"I wouldn't be so churlish. Your words where hurtful, yes, but I know from where they were born."

Now his arrogance was chaffing at her patience. Maker, how could this elf make her feel this way? He was the only man that ever could. She was usually so confident in herself, of her views and her actions, yet half an hour in his company and she was questioning everything; everything, except for what she needed the answer to.

"If you won't answer me I'm going home… back to Anders!" Hawke turned in the direction of the door.

"Wait!" Fenris called after her. "Don't go."

As Hawke made her way back over to the fireplace, she wondered if she'd obeyed far too easily. In truth, she'd often dreamt he'd beg her to stay with him. Though she wasn't sure the outcome of this play through would be the same as in her dreams.

As they stood there side by side, staring into the glowing embers, watching the odd tiny flame flicker and die, they both knew it was time for answers – for they were long overdue.

Deliberately choosing his words, Fenris spoke first. His eyes still fixed on the smouldering logs.

"When I first heard of… when I first saw you and Anders together, my heart was torn into tiny pieces. I had never known what it was like to feel such internal agony before. The lyrium being burnt into my skin was the worst pain I had ever felt… until that moment."

Hawke turned to look at him. Her gaze softening, she opened her mouth to speak.

Fenris held up his hand "No, please, let me finish. I have to say this to you now, in case… in case there's never another chance."

He moved to sit in one of the chairs by the fireplace and motioned for Hawke to take a seat in the other.

"For a long time I hated you for causing that pain. I wanted you dead almost as much as Denarius. That was until I taught myself to shut away that side of me. The anger, the pain, they were too much and, as in my worst nightmares, I feared I would be capable of hurting you… of killing you." He cast his head down and stared distantly into his open palms.

"I could not have lived with myself if I had harmed you – I could not have lived. Everything I was, my very essence, was wrapped up in you and, though I was engorged with so much hatred, I loved you still. Gradually over the years, it became easier to be in your presence. I learned to forgive you and locked the door on all the resentment of the past. We were 'friends' again and, in that place, under those circumstances, it was safe – controlled, but safe." Fenris paused to look up at Hawke.

"Finally, when I knew I had that anger where it needed to be, I looked to you and Anders, to see if you were happy. It seemed so and I honestly wished you nothing less than that. To see you smile in his company was all I could have hoped for. I only ever wanted to see you smile again, Hawke"

He gave one his small smiles that only raised one corner of his mouth. However, his eyes didn't smile. His eyes where sad, and there seemed to be no life in them. With deep regret, Hawke wondered if she'd caused those eyes to fade in such a way. She'd always loved his 'dancing' eyes. She'd always told him his true soul was on display in them, if anyone cared to look beyond the brooding exterior – as she did.

She paused to make sure he'd said all he had wanted to say. Fenris sensed this and nodded, directing her to go on.

"You left me!" She spurted out. She wasn't so good at this 'choose your words' thing, and now it made her anxious to think that her account may not come out the way she wanted it to.

Fenris made no remark. He knew her better than she knew herself sometimes and he would be patient as she spoke.

She recalled aloud the way she'd relaxed in his arms, the happiness he'd not seen as she listened to his heartbeat while he slept. The dreams she'd had and the anticipation of all that had been yet to come. Then she told him of the way she'd woken to find him away from her side, in a state of obvious distress. As she lay in her bed filled with promise, passion and love, such intense love, he had stood before her, reached into her chest and ripped out her still-beating heart. He couldn't have killed her more if he'd actually employed his lyrium induced rage and done so literally.

"So," Hawke continued, "that was that. My heart lay broken and bleeding at my feet and I didn't even know why. I didn't know if it was something I'd done, something I'd said. I only wanted my life to end there and then. I didn't want to go on without you, Fenris. Had the events with mother not happened when they did, had I not needed to be strong to try to find her, be strong for my family and friends and face things greater than you and I – without any of that, I'm not sure I'd be here talking with you now.

Somehow, those things… and Anders, got me through."

Hawke noticed Fenris start to tense. A frown had filled the space where his smile had just been and he had turned to look into the fire again.

"He's a good man, Fenris. He loves me so much and… well… I needed him. He wanted to give himself to me, entirely, and I guess I let it happen because… because it was far better than the alternative."

"So you used him then?" The elf raised his voice in accusation.

"No, no I… I didn't use him. I gave him a love that he was happy with. He knew he couldn't ever take the place of what you and I had, but he was satisfied with what I had to offer him. I love him, Fenris. Just not as much as I lov…"

"Enough! I'm not even sure why I'm still listening to this" He leapt out of the chair with such force that it was thrown back as he did so. Yet again, his markings began to glow, and this time Hawke couldn't hide her fear. She held up her hands, palms facing him and a steady trickle of tears emerging from her eyes.

Still, she managed to find her voice, albeit a quiet one.

"Calm down… I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

It was too late. After all those years learning to control this dangerous temper, he had only to argue with Hawke and it was back with a vengeance.

"I left you, I know that, but I had my reasons. Good reasons. I didn't expect you to jump into bed with another man. I thought… I thought you loved me. I thought you loved only me."

"I did! Haven't I just explained that?" Her fear started to subside as she felt the baring of her soul had been a complete waste of time. Her own emotional fragility was more terrifying to her than the man she loved, and if she were about to die then she would not bow out with tears in her eyes.

"If these reasons of yours are so great then tell them to me, or haven't you the decency to admit you just changed your mind?"

Now _she_ pushed herself forcefully towards _him_. The indignant bravery she was so well known for taking over and almost knocking Fenris back with its power.

"Because of this, can't you see?" He stretched out his arms and roared to emphasise his volatile condition.

"I feared what I would be capable of doing to you, if Denarius commanded it, as he did with the Fog Warriors in Seheron. I did it because I love you!"

"And I turned to Anders because I'd lost you, you only had to explain and we could have worked it out but instead, you left me. You broke my heart. I… I had to move on because… because… I love you, too!"

At that moment, in that room, all became clear. Restrained passion and a love that would never end combined as Fenris and Hawke fell into each other arms. It was as if a barrier had broken between them and, as their lips met, the fire that had remained doused for so long began to burn brighter than any fire ever had. As they tumbled to the floor still entwined, he paused to look into her eyes. Smiling his corner smile, he brushed a lock of soft black hair from her face and whispered, "I love you, Hawke."

"I love you too, Fenris – again." A girlish giggle accompanied Hawke's smiling eyes

Clawing at each other's clothes, the time for talk was done. As the moon politely disappeared behind a cloud, the room was plunged into darkness and, after so long painfully wondering, all their questions were finally answered.


End file.
